


Model for us, Beth

by orphan_account



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27540718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Model for us, Beth,” Cleo drawled one lazy Sunday morning.
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts, Cleo/Beth Harmon, Cleo/Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 5
Kudos: 116





	Model for us, Beth

**Author's Note:**

> i couldn't believe beth/cleo/benny wasn't a relationship tag yet.

“Model for us, Beth,” Cleo drawled one lazy Sunday morning. 

Beth turned to her right, where Cleo’s slim figure was poised lying on her side, looking like a Parisian modern Cleopatra. Her milky white skin seemed unusually pale, thanks to the shitty fluorescent lights in Benny’s apartment. Still, she somehow looked just taken out from a magazine cover.

“Why?” Beth asked, frowning.

“Because we want to see you,” Came a gruff voice from her left and she turned again, with a raised eyebrow.

“You are seeing me now.” She said.

Benny only smiled sweetly at her and pushed his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. Beth scrunched her nose, she must smell like crap after last night’s activities. They had stayed up almost all night, dancing, singing, playing, fucking; as they always did when Cleo was in town. The French woman had been right when they met. Beth thought of her as a Queen. Cleo could move everywhere, capturing the path she walked over. And she often chose to move, going from Paris to Berlin, from there to Chicago, and that one time she called from Peru. Yet, for some reason, this tiny windowless apartment was like the King she would always come back to, even when the move appeared to be illogical, unwise. She would always be back like a moth did to the flame, even when she knew she’d be burnt.

“Please, Beth.” Cleo coaxed sweetly again. It was the same tone that made her get plastered that one time in France before losing against Borgov. Beth had learned from a young age that one must resign of their game when they know they’ve lost. She bit her lip and nodded, before tapping Benny’s naked shoulder so she could move.

Beth stood up as graciously as she could after being tangled among American and French limbs and smelly bed sheets. She walked to the bathroom and smiled into the mirror. Last night had been amazing. Cleo and Benny had made sure of that, since it was her two year mark of being sober. They had raised their glasses and toasted with iced tea. Letting out a sigh, she splashed some water onto her face, before walking out and returning to the bedroom. She was about to open the closet door to grab some of her clothes, but Cleo’s voice stopped her.

“Wait, not from those. That one.” Beth turned to the bed and followed Cleo’s finger, to where it pointed. It was a black bag set on top of a chair on the corner of the room. Beth had seen Cleo set it down carefully yesterday and asked her what it was. She had only received a coy smile that had made her shiver and then been led to the kitchen with the promise of chocolate and kisses.

The redhead squinted suspiciously before going to the chair. She took off her oversized shirt, which was only one of the many shirts she stole from Townes whenever they met. She removed the bag carefully and took out what was inside. She held it in front of her face and blinked. It was a dress. It was a stunning scarlet silk gown with an open back, the upper part hung loosely. It was cinched at the waist by a pair of embroidered serpents, to then let the skirt fall in waves. She could feel two pairs of eyes boring into her, but she didn’t look up. Instead, she unzipped the side and put it on. Once it was all set, she zipped it back up. She frowned slightly, it was a perfect fit. Cleo and her weren’t the same size, the model being a size lower than her.

“It’s perfect.” Cleo whispered and Beth looked up.

Beth was not ugly, that much she knew. She had eyes and mirrors, after all. But she also knew that she wasn’t magazine-beautiful, Cleo-gorgeous. There were women who attracted attention by simply existing and Beth did not figure amongst them. Whenever eyes turned to her, it was because of her prowess in chess, her sharp wit in interviews and the carefully constructed persona she was forced to create after becoming famous; and she was okay with that. 

Yet, right now, standing in a shoddy apartment a few feet underground on a silky red dress, with two of the most attractive people she knew staring at her like she just won the Moscow Invitational all over again, Beth Harmon felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

She twirled the skirt a little while looking at two of the people she loved the most admiring her with warmth in their eyes, “Yeah, perfect.”


End file.
